Back before the pandemic, when I was in my campus office all day most days, I would often walk up to the Mobil On the Run for a drink, or sometimes lunch. Nothing makes you feel successful like a gas station hot dog! Anyway, I don’t remember what tipped me off, but I somehow realized that a clerk there has a gay son. She and I struck up a bit of a relationship—something more than just clerk and customer but less than friendship. Like me, she loves and accepts her son but worries about him. When someone is “out,” supportive parents are great, but not really sufficient. Despite all of the progress over the years, we still live in a cis- and heteronormative world. Just look at what’s going on in Florida these days.
Being a parent is hard. Being a parent of someone LGBTQ+ just compounds it. Yesterday was the Miner Welcome Bash, a time when incoming freshmen at S&T (and their families) can come and find out about various programs on campus. There is a resource fair where many campus ministries had tables, including my church’s, Common Call Campus Ministry. I think it’s important for us to show that there is a welcoming place for everyone to explore their faith. Ignite, sponsored by First UMC, is generally accepting within the bounds of what the denomination teaches, but I believe Common Call is the only campus ministry that is explicitly and publicly progressive and inclusive. Not many students stopped by our table, but perhaps we planted a seed.
The only substantive conversation I had was with a family from St. Robert, which is just in the next county over. The student in question is LGBTQ+. The family sought me out, having been pointed in my direction during a faculty presentation. “You want to talk to Dr. Kimball. Look for the guy with the big gray beard. Best beard on campus.” The family has escaped from a very conservative Christian church and are put off by Christianity, even if it’s progressive. I gave my little spiel, just for the record, then pivoted to what they really wanted to know: What’s the campus climate like for queer students? I connected them to our student diversity programs and also shared that by the standards of a small town in rural Missouri, we’re pretty inclusive—though that is admittedly a low bar. I also told them about Pulaski Pride and other activities down in St. Robert.
The organizer in Pulaski County once spoke at a parents panel that LGBTQ+ Rolla put on. Although she is herself transgender, she worries a lot about her queer kid. She knows how hard her life has been. She knows that things are better now than, say, thirty years ago, but that doesn’t mean her kid’s life will be easy. Especially around here.
I’m motivated to change that. I know that as an ally, and a cisgender, heterosexual, white man, I will never understand what gay, transgender, and other queer individuals go through. At the same time, if I just sit back and wait for someone else to act, nothing will change. I founded LGBTQ Rolla two years ago to provide a focal point for the LGBTQ+ community in Rolla and Phelps County. We’re gearing up for our second annual Phelps Pride (this Friday night!). As the organization has evolved, I have tried to drift more and more into the background. I’m not the president—I’m the secretary/treasurer. I don’t know what it’s like to be gay, but I do know how to balance a checkbook and can learn how to file with the IRS, the Missouri Department of Revenue, the Missouri Secretary of State, and so forth. At Pride, I can hand out T-shirts and sell new ones. I can do the administrative stuff so that LGBTQ+ individuals can lead the narrative and just enjoy time together. I’m an admin on our Facebook page, not to control the discussion but to kill spam.
So, happy Pride month! I’m looking forward to our second annual gathering and I’m hopeful about the future of the LGBTQ+ community in my adopted home. And happy Father’s Day to all the gay and trans dads out there and all the fathers of queer kids.